A Culture of Fear

I put down my graphic novel.

Though, for me or rather a man in my situation, it could just as well be any book. Or any kind of escapism. There are no chains to my desk, yet I pour hour after hour into the endless pursuit of novelties, scattered with the occasionally provoking thought. At this desk, I have built a monument to myself, eternally pristine.

These thoughts cross me every waking day, usually by the umpteenth hour I have consumed enough to know less, and to do less than when I began. What I used to see as assimilation has effectively become my own deconstruction. And now, I have traded away enough of my passions for tokens to truly behold the perfection of the cage I have designed.

I still posess dreams of conquering the mythical 'outside', of sharing that which I have learned with my fellow man in a more traditional manner, of relationships. Such dreams however remain just that whilst I am still in this state of deconstruction and reconstruction; a state imposed on me by the works of those whom have come, and gone before me.

The notion of perfection is subtle, and dangerous. I dare not achieve it, nor seek to achieve it, yet in the sight of history a few men have courted it so brilliantly they came away visibly wounded by it's marks. Many die, and I am among the dead.

I bear no resemblance to my former man for his luxuries are my necessities, and still I am expected to abide by the ideas of such immortals and even to build upon these ideas, for they are regarded as the truths of today. Understandably, one must learn from the past to even hope to guess at the future. Though I still feel the lessons of aforetimes have yet to be learned, as man is contented with the men of aforetimes, rather than the events.

When our sociological consciousness is so deeply rooted in the past, does it not follow that our present gives rise to new depths of failure? The newest of concepts to the least of minds is consistently esoteric, and breeds alienation. The evidence of this is in the increasingly uniform nature of societies across the globe, the Saxon is willing to be subjected to accupuncture, as the Chinaman is willing to practice a free market.

To my eyes, that which has made us human for the past two thousand years is devolving and I am an artifact of this change, blinded by emotion, and crippled by my betters. The prophecies of these dead men have come true; even now civilisations are nearing their Platonic conclusions. Simply said, man is moving from the pursuit of ideas to the pursuit of emotions, eschewing entirely the pursuit of truths.

Man has never been in the pursuit of truth in earnest, although there have been men who were – every era has a small number of men at the bastion of truth, and such men are appropriately killed, silenced, or ignored. This is due to man's nature, man fears truth. This is clear from our endless infatuation with isms; our economics Keynesian, our politics broadly Conservative and our minds somewhere on the spectrum between Buddhist, Fascist, Abrahamic and Liberal.

In an age where man is so enslaved from inception, it is no surprise that one would rather pick at the philosophical buffet than cook a meal themselves, the ingredients are intangible and the appliances nonexistant. It is far easier to try three meals and subsequently declare yourself a man of steak, especially when one has nary the time to enquire as to even a recipe.

Thus, we are trained to reject truth. So much so, that the concept of absolute truths existing is constantly called into question, the problem with such consistent antagonism does not need to be explained; it manifests itself in the ever increasing empathy gaps between those who have, and those who do not. It remains a fact that man, over the ages, has used materials overwhelmingly to pursue materials, rather than using materials for the purpose of progress.

The majority of those same men whom have danced with perfection, and lived, would be progressively disgusted by the fruits of their own societies had they persisted to see them. A basic wisdom is this; the ideals of the few will never match the realities of the many, yet whilst the many are contented with progress for progress' sake, they cannot understand why they occasionally feel a tingling sensation at the nape of their necks.

However, man's nature is not to fear truth. Man's nature is to fear the unknown, and now as our minds are understood to be fundamentally unknown, yet labled, the fear reaches our consciousness and we cling to our own concepts.

Essentially, we are afraid to be afraid. I am afraid to be afraid. For all the thinking man has done, remarkably little is on the paradigm of man helping man. Many questions remain on such a topic, chief among them being; will man ever experience such a change? The thought is sobering.